My Ancient Enemy- Valentine's Day
by mandaree1
Summary: In which Louise understands romance from a very removed perspective, knows that she'll never want it, and is forced to live in a world filled with it.
**Disclaimer: I don't own Bob's Burgers!**

 **Title: My Ancient Enemy; Valentine's Day**

 **Summary: In which Louise understands romance from a very removed perspective, knows that she'll never want it, and is forced to live in a world filled with it.**

 **Warnings: Aromantic!Louise.**

 **...**

It's not like it's some big secret, the sum of their parts.

Back in the olden days of VCR, one might find a recorded documentary of Tina Belcher, give or take the last, say, seven years. In one such video tape, around her fifth birthday, you can see the wobbling image capture a young Tina, all child-like and pudgy- not unlike how she is now, really- wobble away from a group of girls her age to grab some papers and scribble in pen, hear their father murmur from behind the screen; "Why do I get the feeling that she's going to be super awkward when she's older?"

"Eh. Puberty'll be a killer." Their mother replies. "But she'll grow up and realize that life is awkward, then let her freak flag fly freely. No worries."

Gene's is a baby photograph, with their parents discussing something in the background. Louise has heard the story, and vividly sees the conversation they're having as though she were there for it.

"Hmm... yep. Gay."

"Huh? Lin, what are you talking about?"

"Well, look at him, Bobby. He can barely walk and he's already playing with Tina's hair. He's gay. Or bi. Pansexual?"

"Are you saying a straight man can't be feminine?"

"Of course not!" Surprise colors her voice. "Call it a mommy instinct. He's about as straight as a broken arrow."

And then she graced the world with her presence, and her father claimed her with one sentence. "She looks like one of those photos you see of child serial killers."

(" _Bobby_!")

That's the thing with babies. Sure, mom has all the equipment, but _dad_ made the deposit. No refunds. She's his, forever. Deal with it.

They've been pegged from the start. Tina's always gonna be a bit on the stiff side to people who don't know her, and Gene's gonna grow up to be one of those boys who shows up to formal events in a snazzy bedazzled dress. And that's a _good_ thing! Louise has seen normal boys Gene's age, and she easily prefers her own brother to the sweaty masculine menaces who wrestle to solve their problems and feel ashamed when a girl beats them up. Gene's _honored_ to get his butt kicked by a fellow female.

And Louise? Well, there's a sort of charm a serial killer has, one she won't deny envying. Sure, there's a good twenty to thirty stomachs in the freezer; but you're also one heck of a smooth talker. Normal people can't fake sanity nearly as well as the insane.

But, at the end of the day, no matter what the character development or lessons learned, people fall back on a simple system of needs and wants. Louise is not ashamed of saying that, because _everything_ runs on needs and wants, even her.

Robots need to follow their coding and want upgrades, probably. Animals need to survive and want to produce offspring. Humans need to reproduce and want to do so via some strange soul-bearing cult-like commitment to finding romance. And there lies Louise's problem.

Look. Louise respects the things that bring babies into the world. You wanna get frisky? Go _you_! Just... buy a bag of Friskies, and pour them all over the bed; whatever people get up to these days. Heck, Louise might just adopt a baby someday, if Gene's willing to nurse it and Tina can change the diapers. She's a woman; not a slave.

But romance? Love? It's funny, when it's mom and dad. Seeing them struggle through date night can send anybody to the floor. Bad food plus wine plus dancing equals _anybody's_ kind of entertainment. But then there's couples _under_ the age of fifty, with their touching and nicknames and _PDA_.

Louise could go deeper, give a long speech on how the thought of falling in love kinda gave her the willies, but you're not here for that.

She understands love. She's loathe to admit it, but Louise _does_ love. Her family. To an extent, her friends; but that's more the way a family love-pities a pet that's not real bright; even for _it's_ standards. She believes in romantic love; it's just... not her thing.

She sees Tina's obsessive need to find someone who loves her as much as she loves herself and then some, and Gene's simple wish to find someone to maybe be with someday, and raises it her own notion of love; spa days. Snuggling with puppies. That warm feeling you get when you and your siblings curl up in bed together in the morning, 'cause you all woke up before you're willing to work and instead congregate in mom and dad's bed. There's nothing wrong with loving yourself plenty for two, and then some.

Anyway. On to the story.

* * *

Have you ever seen something so sickeningly sweet you want to punch a wall?

Wiping her hands free of a substance left by a shifty-eyed customer, she grimaced at the sight of Jimmy Pesto's Valentine's Day promo on the front of the restaurant. Suddenly, her father's hatred for the man was her own. Anybody who uses that many hearts and shades of red in a display that didn't include fireworks _must_ be evil. She rolled her eyes and threw the rag at the empty table. Let them consider it a bonus napkin, for all she cared.

"You okay, Louise?" Teddy says, putting down his burger. The fact he's disregarding his food for her is almost enough to brighten her mood. "I've never seen you hate a sign so vehemently."

"Valentine's Day needs to be kicked to the curb." Louise proclaims, kicking her feet up. "I mean, there's so many other things we can do with today, more productive things. Like a second Christmas! The big guy could make it work; working over time, enslaving a species to help the helves. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do, right?"

Teddy and Mort exchange a glance. "You seem a bit irritable today, Louise." The burly man says. "More so than usual."

"Eugh. Don't get me started."

Mort hops over a stool. "By all means. My clients are in no particular rush to meet me. Ha!"

Louise hops up. What the heck. They're not the smartest out there, but they're good customers, and dad always says to be friendly to the customers. (Not that she was taking notes. That'd be stupid. Like she actually wants to run a restaurant one day.) "Normally this is my V-day _sanctuary_. And now it's staring me in the face!"

"Uh, Louise?" Bob's head appears from behind the grill. "Pesto does this every year."

"No, he doesn't." She slams her palms on the counter. "He makes an ad. An _ad_ , dad! Something that shows up on the TV- maybe twice- and we mute it!"

Mort's brow furrows. "You seem pretty down in the dumps today, Louise. Is your special boy giving you trouble?"

"Or girl." Teddy adds.

"Or girl." Mort agrees.

Her head finds the counter with an audible thud, mixed with a groan. "No, _that's_ what's gotten me down in the dumps. All this couple stuff is making me sick. Why can't people do what mom and dad do, and just get drunk?"

"We're adults, Louise. They're not."

"Who cares? Let them get drunk, I say. Anything is better than this."

"Uh, Louise? You realize they're sitting three feet away from you."

Louise stands up on the stool. "And you! Accepting run-off customers from _Jimmy Pesto's!_ What is wrong with you, man?"

"They're looking for a place to eat on a date. They have money. It's a no-brainer." He shrugs.

"Who brings their date to a burger joint, anyway? This seems like the _last_ place to drum up romance."

"It worked for your mom and I."

She crosses her arms smugly. "My point exactly."

"Hey!"

Teddy laughs. "She's gotta point, Bobby. Don't worry, kiddo. It's only one day."

"A day that will inevitably saturate the air for two weeks after it passes!" Her tiny hands hit the tabletop. "Dad, can I have the day off?"

"No."

"What if I told you I'd contracted a form of lice?"

"You don't have lice, Louise. Get back to work."

"Aw."

"Tough luck, Louise." Mort awkwardly pats her shoulder. Louise hops down with a disagreeing noise.

"I'd like a water, please." The girl of the table sets her menu down with purpose. "I'm on a diet."

"Congrats." Louise notices the empty half of their booth with mild relief. "Where's the stud?"

"Bathroom."

"Ah, I see how it is." Louise pretends nonchalance as she scribbles doodles down on her pad, seeing her stiffen with relish.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's a small restaurant, you know? You notice things without meaning to." She flips her pen side to side, watching her squirm under the pause. "I'm just saying, I saw you go into the bathroom earlier, and he went _crazy_ because you almost took your phone. But, uh... I don't see his anywhere. That's some serious trust issues, if you're asking me."

She bristles, and there's a betrayal in her eyes. "He should trust me."

"You should confront him." She urges.

"I _should_ confront him!"

"You should fight!"

She stands up with a huff. "I'll be right back. Make that a coffee."

An older woman a booth away crackled as the girl disappeared to the door to pound on it. "You're evil."

"Hey, it's not _my_ fault they were already heading down the crapper. Can't everyone just sit around and tell bad jokes?"

"That's my job, Louise." Bob calls. "Except my jokes are good."

"Right."

"What? They are."

"Uh-huh."

Tina shuffles out from the back with a plate of burgers for the old folks. The yelling has turned to hair pulling. "Oh. That's... romantic, I guess."

"Eh. I'm betting on the girl."

"Ditto." Gene appears almost magically by her side. "Do you see those claws? He better be prepared to lose an eye!"

"Where were you, anyway?"

"Handing out flyers."

"Ah."

"Oh, for pete's sake- is _anybody_ gonna try and stop them?"

"Hmm... nah. Let them get it out of their systems."

"Ugh." Bob groans, the way he always does whenever she's involved. "Louise, no stirring the pot in the work place. You're on dish duty. In the back."

"Yay!" She cheers, practically skipping. "Sweet, sweet freedom!"

"Huh. That seems like the complete opposite of freedom." Tina says.

"Nah. The complete opposite of freedom is the wrestling unit in gym."

"Huh." Tina repeats, with a way of huh-ing that stated otherwise.

* * *

"Don't you _dare_ , Tina."

Louise points an accusing finger at the girl, currently reaching for the DVDs.

"But it's my turn to pick." She defends.

"If you take one more step towards the romantic comedies, I swear I will eviscerate you in your sleep." She narrows her eyes to show she means business.

"Woof." Gene comments, eyebrows raising.

"Sheesh. Fine." Tina grabs an action movie. "Oddly enough, that's one of the least threatening threats ever made to me."

"Why, because you're asleep? I just don't want to alert mom and dad with your screaming."

"Ah."

Louise feels the betrayal on a personal level when the two main characters, amongst a circle of explosions, begin to make out. "Traitor! You _traitor,_ Tina! Traitor with a capital T!"

"In my defense, every movie we own has some sort of coupling in it."

"It's, like, the movie norm." Gene pushes a few buttons on his keyboard. There's no real idea in mind, Louise gathers; she knows his idle playing from his disorganized experimenting.

"It's a stupid norm. Isn't there any movie without a couple in it?"

"Uhh..." Tina groans thoughtfully. "Baby movies?"

"Son of a bitch!" Louise flops with a moan of agony. "The golden era of movies is from before my time."

"Are you okay?" Tina's brow knits. "You're hating on the movie. You know, more than normal."

"Because _normally_ I have a break from this crap, you know? They've shoved it down my throat all day at school, and then Jimmy Pesto can't even keep all his customers thanks to overflow, and now this!"

They let her stew in her own juices for a bit.

"If it helps any," Gene says. "I'd totally make an action movie with no romance for you."

"Yeah?"

"Depends. Can I include platonic cuddling and friendly flirting?"

"Ditch the flirting and we've got a deal."

Tina groans again. "I'm sure you'll find someone someday."

"Uh, Tina? I'm pretty sure my 'someone' is world domination. Just saying."

"I'm with Louise on this one." Gene kicks up his feet. "Listen to any pop song ever made. Love is for the birds!"

Tina hums indecisively and turns back to the screen. Something about the movement trips her trigger.

"What, Tina? You think I can't make up my own mind? That I'm being silly?" She bursts out.

"No, of course not." She hesitates. "Won't you feel lonely, without a partner?"

Louise laughs manically. "You know what would make me feel lonely, T? Bleeding to death in an alleyway somewhere during a gang war with no allies. Not having some stupid relationship that'll go down the crapper within ten years _won't_ make me lonely."

"Fair enough." Tina concedes. "We should write a letter. To the people who make these movies. They might listen to us."

"That's a waste of good paper." Gene answers. "Let's just hate on it like everybody else."

* * *

Louise isn't above admitting she doesn't sleep very well that night.

You give her an idea, or a thought, and she runs with it. Wouldn't you? Sometimes a single idea will be dogging her for _days_ before she can finally shake it off.

In her mind, she's always had it figured out, you know? The future. Bob and Linda'll retire, and Gene will become a DJ; Tina will be a writer. They'll all live together above a restaurant. And, well, since _somebody_ has to do it, Louise will run the food.

She knows it sounds like a silver lining sort of dream, but the Belcher kids are prepared to work for it. They've promised each other that. Sure, they'll get married- Louise has always known her siblings will get married- but she always figured she'd rent a separate apartment for herself. They warn her that romance is in the works, and bam! Gone.

The dream... it's never struck her as lonely, is all. It still doesn't. But what's she gonna do while they're busy making goo-goo eyes and babies? There's only so many knives to sharpen.

"Well, hello there." Linda's ever-cheerful tone breaks into her mini-epiphany at the kitchen table. "You're up early, huh?"

"Hey, mom." Louise uncurls herself- it wasn't a protective thing, she tells herself, she just finds the position comfy. "I could say the same for you."

"Eh, you know how it is." She waves the idea off, searching through the cupboards. "Killer headache. I didn't drink enough water, I think."

"Right. That's it. You _didn't_ drink enough _water_."

"Hey now, missy. I'll have you know I wasn't even drinking last night. Although, with your dad's bad breath, I might've wished I was." She downs a pills to hold off the pain. "And you?"

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you. It might be the weekend, but you still have a bedtime, and I doubt you followed it." Linda slips into the seat across from her. "What's eating at you?"

"Nothing. Just sick of being lovesick."

"Ah." Linda's eyes glow with understanding. "You were pretty upset yesterday."

"I guess."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really. I already went on a rant once today."

"You love ranting." Her eyebrows raise. "You told me it's like screaming, only you don't get in trouble for it."

"Ugh." Her head met table for the second time in two days. "Don't put my words in my mouth."

"Too late!" She chirps, obnoxiously proud about the whole thing.

"Valentine's Day is overrated. It's a marketing ploy."

"Oh, most definitely." Linda's head bobs in a nod. "But it's also the only time a woman like me can watch her husband fall on his face tryin' to be romantic."

"You have date night."

"Date night is the _opposite_ of romantic. Bad food, cheap wine, and really bad dancing does _not_ equal romance."

She moans. "Why must it be so ridiculously complicated?"

"Now that's something your father would say." She laughs, standing up to grab herself a cup of coffee before returning to her seat.

"Mom, what would you say if I told you I don't believe in love on a personal scale?"

"Well, that depends." She nonchalantly sipped at the hot liquid. Louise bitterly wished she could have some. "Do you mean it in a "I'm not worthy of loving." sort of way, or a "That's just not me." sort of way?"

"The latter."

"Then I'd say to do whatever makes you feel happy. If that means you never date, then so be it. Your father'll be thrilled."

"You aren't mad that I've stolen away the chance of grandchildren, or whatever it is old farts say?"

"Eh. My money was always on Tina in that department. I always had this crazy idea that you and Gene would co-parent a baby together, but who knows?"

Louise slams her hands on the table. "I'm sick of everything being about love, is all."

"Oh, yeah? What about your future? Your happy place?"

"What about it?"

"Well, does it have any love?"

Louise blinks at her. "Only in the sense that Tina and Gene get married." And she was a chef, but there was no need to ramble on about that, however. Her father would never let her live it down.

"And that makes you happy?"

"More than happy. It's everything I want."

"Well, then." Linda sat back in her chair with a smile. "I'm happy _you're_ happy, sweetie."

 **Author's Note: First time writing Bob's Burgers, Louise, or an aromantic character. By all means, tell me what you think. =)**

 **-Mandaree1**


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